Good Deal
by m7707
Summary: Bella Swan hates Rosalie Hale. Her idea of revenge? Sleeping with the Ice Queen's boyfriend, Edward Cullen. AH, very OOC, very rated M.
1. Chapter 1  Prologue

**CH 1 - PROLOGUE**

"Rumor has it Edward and Rosalie broke up again."

I snorted. Fucking rumor mill. There was always a rumor that had it, and it was usually about Cullen. Edward Cullen, Forks High golden boy.

Jackass.

I had to put some stock in that particular rumor, however. He hadn't stopped his incessant bitching about her the night before unless he'd been inside me. It was annoying as hell, and repetitive, so I'd made sure he was inside some part of me quite often. I smiled. He was a jackass, but the boy knew his shit when it came to all that.

"What are you smiling about?" Angela asked.

I wiped the stupid smile off my face and shrugged. "You and your rumors, Ang."

"Well…" she snuck a glance to where Rosalie Hale, stereotypical blond, blue-eyed, gorgeous Homecoming Queen, was holding court. "I can't help it. Everyone's talking about it."

I rolled my eyes, gathering my books and standing. "Whatever. Who gives a shit about those two. _Bor_-ring."

"He's in your Biology class, isn't he? You should ask him."

"Hah! No." I shook my head. The last thing in the fucking world I wanted to do with Cullen was talk to him. I had better uses for his mouth.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Author's Note:**

**So…Yeah. Hang on, because this is going to be quick and dirty.**

**Thanks to SunKing for the quick beta – any remaining errors are mine all mine.**

**Thanks to you all for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**CH 2**

I'd hated Rosalie Hale from the second I'd stepped foot on the Forks High campus.

I hadn't wanted to be there in the first place, in Washington, which was dreary and humid. I wasn't used to either the overcast skies or the wet air, having lived most of my almost eighteen years in Phoenix with my mother. My step-dad, Phil, had been the baseball coach at Arizona State University until he had accepted the same position at Florida State. In a fit of rebellion and nostalgia, I'd decided to move back to Washington, where I'd been born, to live with my dad instead. I'd thought it wouldn't matter where I spent my senior year if it wasn't in my old school with all my friends anyway, but I hadn't realized how very wrong I could be. I'd picked the rainforest over sunny beaches and surfer boys? Stupid teenage emo angst. I'd thought myself above all that, but once again, I was so mistaken.

I'd been looking for the goddamn letters on the buildings to find my math class in Building B—whoever the hell had thought of having an outdoor campus in the middle of the rainiest place on earth, I'd like to know so I could castrate them—when I'd run right into my nemesis. It had been an accident, but she'd reacted like I'd had a vendetta against her since birth and had planned to bump into her just when she'd been putting red lipstick on her pretty little bowtie mouth. A bright streak of crimson had smeared from the corner of her lips almost to her ear. The fact that I'd laughed so hard that I'd had to sit down had made us instant enemies, but when she found that the red dye had stained her pale, porcelain skin and she had to walk around for the rest of the day looking like a victim of a serial killer, I became public enemy number one.

She'd made my life a living hell ever since. Not that I cared, because who really gave a fuck about some podunk little high school in the middle of nowhere? I was turning eighteen in just a few days, so I was only marking time until I graduated, moved to Seattle, and was on my own at college. I didn't give a shit about high school, especially not that one, where I had no ties. I just wanted to get it over with and start my real life.

But Rosalie Hale pissed me off. She made it impossible for me to just coast as a ghost through the last few months of high school. She made me the target of every cruel prank and set-up she could think of, which thankfully were all pretty easy to figure out and avoid. But it annoyed me, so I decided I'd get back at her in my own way, without drawing attention to myself.

Everyone in the school knew she was dating Edward Cullen because he was the best looking, the smartest, most talented, and richest kid in the school. Rosalie Hale, Homecoming Queen and Frigid Ice Bitch extraordinaire wouldn't lower herself to let anyone else put their sweaty, grasping paws on her—only the best for Miss Hale.

So, after a couple of weeks of suffering in Forks, Washington, I saw my opportunity and grabbed it. I'd forgotten my stupid English homework in my locker and had to go back in after final bell to retrieve it. As I was leaving, Edward Cullen walked out of the main office ahead of me, heading toward the parking lot. I did something I rarely did, but thought it worth it in my pursuit of revenge. I hurried.

"Hey!" I came up behind him, and when he didn't respond, I reached out to put my hand on his arm to get his attention. Except I kind of tripped, and it ended up being more like a lunge. I pretty much punched him in the shoulder, and he spun in surprise, pulling the buds out of his ears and raising an arrogant, inquiring brow.

I rolled my eyes. Please. _Arrogant this, asshole_, I thought.

"You're Edward, right? Edward Cullen?"

He nodded.

"You're dating Rosalie Hale?"

He grimaced. "Fucking Rosalie."

Ohh, trouble in paradise. I smiled.

He looked me over. "We're kind of on and off. This happens to be an off week."

"Excellent." I grabbed his hand and pulled him behind me as I headed toward the parking lot. "Come with me."

"Where?" He followed along willingly enough.

I paused when we reached the edge of the lot, biting my lip. My truck was at one end, but the cab was small and the steering wheel huge. It didn't leave a lot of room.

"Which one's your car?"

He pointed at a shiny, brand new, sleek, and expensive looking sedan. "The Volvo. Why?"

"Perfect," I said in satisfaction. I bet it had a nice back seat. Probably leather, too, which made it easy to clean. He looked like he'd be messy.

"Um…" He let me yank his arm as I marched purposefully toward the car. "Mind if I ask what we're doing?"

"Getting into the backseat of your car." I looked around. There were a few vehicles still left in the lot, but they were mostly staff cars parked in the back. His sat all by itself in shiny silver solitude.

"Why?"

I came to a sudden halt, spinning to look at him. He managed to avoid knocking me flat on my ass in an admittedly graceful move that left him towering over me. I hadn't realized how tall he was.

"Do you want a blowjob or not?" I asked irritably, grabbing his hand once again and pulling him toward the car. Why was he making this so difficult?

"A… _What_?"

I huffed in frustration as he once again came to a halt, his hand clamping around mine as he stared at me with an open mouth.

"You know," I said impatiently, making a crude jerking motion with my fist toward my mouth. "A blowjob? Head? You know what that is, right? Don't tell me Ice Queen has never gone down on you."

He turned bright red and his mouth opened and closed a few times. I sighed, dragging him to his car.

"Keys." I held my hand out as we stood next to the Volvo, and he slowly reached into his front pocket to pull them out and hand them to me. I noticed the growing bulge in his jeans and smiled in satisfaction.

I hit the button to unlock the doors, opening the back and grabbing his shirt in my fist, pulling him forward and pushing him into the backseat. He fell onto the leather—I'd known it would be leather—and just sat there staring at me. I made an impatient gesture for him to make room, and he scooted along the seat until his back came up against the opposite door. I crawled in on my knees, dropping my bag into the front seat, and reached for his belt.

He was breathing rapidly, but otherwise made no move, either to encourage or stop me until I undid the buttons on the fly and started pulling. He came up in a blur of motion, kicking off his boots and shoving the jeans and his briefs down over his ass, almost knocking me in the chin in his eagerness to strip them off his long legs.

"Nice," I said admiringly when he was naked from the waist down, reclining once again against the door, legs spread out on either side of me on the bench seat.

It was, too, nice and thick, with just enough length to make it interesting. His dick was pretty, just like the rest of him. I shrugged out of my jacket, took it in my hand, and lowered my mouth around him.

I'd thank him later for having attended to his personal hygiene after gym class. He smelled like soap and boy, and was smooth, soft, and clean. Hard. Really hard. It was nice. He grunted and gasped and moaned, his hands coming up to stroke my hair as I concentrated on giving him the best blowjob he'd ever had in his life. From the "fucks" and the "oh, yeahs" and "Oh, God, just like thats," I figured I was accomplishing my goal. His hips undulated, his dick swelled, his voice whimpered, and when he came, he was all healthy teenager, pulsing down my throat two, three, four times, and then a slow, sluggish fifth, surprising me with the last little sixth.

"Wow," I said as I sat up, impressed.

"Holy fucking shit," he breathed, his chest pumping like bellows, his body lying in a limp heap against the door. "I mean it, really. Holy fucking shit."

I grinned, pleased with myself. His eyes blinked open to focus on my face, and I noticed they were a striking green.

"Who _are_ you?" he asked.

My grin widened. "Bella Swan. I hate your fucking girlfriend."

He blinked a couple of times and then nodded, closing those sharp, intelligent eyes.

"Good deal."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Thank you guys so much for your enthusiastic response so far—I really appreciate you taking the time to let me know.**


	3. Chapter 3

**CH 3**

After a few minutes, his breathing started to slow and a satisfied smile curved his lips. I began to get impatient and twitchy. The sounds he'd made and the obvious enjoyment he'd gotten out of the blowjob had made me horny.

"So, do you think you can get it up again?" I asked.

His eyes blinked open, and he glanced down at his lap where his dick lay soft against his stomach.

"Um. I don't know. Probably."

"Well, come on then."

I managed to get my knees underneath me on the seat and leaned over him, unbuttoning his shirt, letting my hands trail down his chest before reaching out to take him in my hand. After a couple of encouraging strokes, he began to harden with gratifying speed, and before long he was slowly pumping his hips and biting his lip, head thrown back against the glass window in pleasure.

"Cool your jets, Romeo. I want something, too." I looked around as he brought his head up and cocked that damn eyebrow at me. "Do you have condoms?"

He smirked, and in combination with that eyebrow, he was an arrogant little shit. "Yeah. In my wallet. In the back pocket of my jeans, wherever they are."

He made a half-hearted attempt to find them, but got distracted when I wiggled out of my tight jeans. I tossed my shoes into the front seat, my jeans and underwear following, and then I leaned over it to rummage in my book bag. It gave him a great shot of my ass and just a glimpse of the good stuff. I knew my ass was prime, and by his quick intake of breath, I could tell he appreciated the view. I pulled a condom out of my bag and turned to present it to him with a flourish.

"Prepared," he commented, reaching to take it.

I watched critically as he tore it open and unrolled it over his erection. He seemed to know what he was doing, which was a good indication he might actually be decent in the sack. No fumbling around, which I appreciated. I also really liked watching a guy touch himself, and Cullen was a treat. He took obvious enjoyment of his own hands, hips rolling as he stroked from tip to base, making sure the rubber was seated properly and giving himself a thrill in the meantime. I liked. I liked a lot. I wanted it inside me.

I pulled his hands away and crawled over his lap, working my knee between his hip and the seat, my other foot bracing on the floor. I took his shaft in my hand, holding it, and he leaned back, eyes on my face. He held my gaze as I lowered myself, and I couldn't stop my eyes from fluttering as I felt that first instant of penetration—thick, hard, round. Hot. I let my head fall back with a moan and heard him gasp as his hands came up to grip my hips. Not to hinder or stop, but to steady us both as I _sank sank sank_ until he was buried deep. My groin pressed into the smooth, pale flesh of his hips, and I felt him all the way up in my abdomen, a brief burn, a little sting, and a lot good.

I let my hips rock forward experimentally, and our eyes flew to each other's at the resulting stab of pleasure.

"Oh, God," he said shakily.

"Oh, yeah," I moaned in return.

I grabbed the headrest of the front seat in my right hand, the rear headrest in my left and arched back, pushing down and forward with my hips. He arched in response, groaning and pulling me against him, so that I rubbed hard against his pelvis right where I needed it most. My eyes flew open in shock, wondering if he knew, _how_ he knew, if he did it on purpose, but his eyes were closed, his mouth slack. He was lost completely in his pleasure.

_Oh, Jesus,_ I thought. Don't tell me I found the only high school boy who knew what to do with a girl's body—with both our bodies. A natural.

"Good," I moaned, gripping the headrests tighter as sensation built hot and strong between my legs, in my belly, shooting out to my fingers and toes. "So good. Whatever you do, don't fucking stop."

He grunted in assent, and I was glad I'd just sucked him off because he lasted a long time, until I came, gasping and jerking on top of him, my toes curling into the carpet of the floor mat. His fingers dug around my hipbones, rocking me, pressing me, selfish now that I'd finished, moving me for his own pleasure. He was sweating, cheeks red, mouth full and pink with his sexual flush, straining and lifting, thrusting in short strokes and then pressing up high into me, rotating, rolling. He bit his lip as he came, features contorting in pleasure so awesome I felt small shocks of another orgasm from the expression and the strong, slow pulses inside me.

I lowered myself to his chest, which was rising and falling in deep, gusting breaths, feeling them gradually slow along with our heartbeats. His skin was slick and sweaty under my cheek, and it felt good, smelled good. His arms fell to our sides and then tentatively came up to hover indecisively over my back. I gave an encouraging wiggle, and they settled around me, warm and surprisingly heavy. He must be pretty well muscled. I'd have to check that out later. What little I'd seen to that point had been very, very nice, surprisingly so, and I was actually kind of looking forward to seeing him completely naked.

I wanted to fall asleep, but knew it was impossible, so I forced myself to sit up, unsticking our skin and pushing the hair out of my face. His hands rubbed down my arms and hips—big hands, long fingers—and his eyes blinked open to watch me.

"Well." I tossed my head back, stretching, and pulled my leg out from between him and the seat. "That was fun."

He gave a noiseless chuckle, and I smiled down at him. He grimaced a little as his softening erection slipped out of me, and I imitated the expression in sympathy.

"I think I might have some tissues or something, maybe hand wipes," I told him, reaching over the front seat for my jeans, underwear, and bag.

"What, no soap and washcloth in there? Body wash?"

I grinned, setting the bag on my naked lap and rummaging through the contents. "A girl can only be so prepared."

I handed him a sleeve of wipes, and he thanked me politely, pulling a couple out and discarding the condom, removing another to wipe himself. I waited until he was done and made use of one myself before struggling into my jeans. It was ungainly and a little embarrassing as I huffed and puffed and contorted, but he watched me with appreciative interest.

"See my jeans anywhere?" he asked, running a hand through his thick hair. It was as pretty as the rest of him, a really gorgeous russet color that was completely wasted on a man. My dark brown hair had red highlights on a good day, but if I had his tone I could be a hair model or something.

I obligingly tossed myself over the front seat, balancing on my stomach, barely avoiding kicking him in the face. He grabbed my ankle to steady me, and I managed to snag his jeans from where they'd landed on the floor under the steering wheel.

He gave a squawk of surprise when I opened the door to get out, probably embarrassed his fine ass wasn't covered, but I only had the door open for a few seconds and no one was around anyway. I opened the front passenger door, grinning at his glare over the seat, and grabbed my shoes.

"Do you mind?" he asked haughtily, head bobbing and body bucking as he struggled with his pants.

"Pssht." I rolled my eyes. "You should be proud of that ass."

"Jesus," I thought I heard him mutter as I slipped my shoes on and bent to tie them.

All put back together, I stood and shut the door, hefting my bag over my shoulder and smoothing my hair. I started toward my car across the lot, but stopped to turn around when I heard a commotion behind me. Edward had fallen out of the car, the top button of his jeans still undone, in his socks, hair wilder than mine, shirt open and flapping in the breeze. He landed hard on the asphalt, and I grimaced in sympathy at the impact. I knew that was going to leave a mark.

"Wait," he groaned, getting up and rubbing his knee, staggering drunkenly after me.

I grinned. He was too cute. What the hell was he doing with Ice Queen anyway?

"I mean," he continued. "What…?"

"I'm sure your bitch of a girlfriend will do something to piss me off soon," I said, walking backward so I could enjoy his dishevelment for a few more steps before giving him a wink and jaunty wave. "See you then, Cullen."

* * *

><p><strong>I love you guys. Seriously. Thank you so much for your comments and reviews, and especially all the recs and chatter on FB and Twitter. It's the best compliment ever to know you enjoy the story enough to rec it.<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**CH 4**

"So let me get this straight," he said a day or two later, holding me by my thighs, which were wrapped around his waist as he banged me against the wall in the stockroom at Newton's Sporting Goods. "Every time Rose pisses you off, you're going to fuck me?"

"Yep," I breathed, pushing back against him as he pounded into me. The boy had some serious strength and stamina. "Pretty much."

"Good deal," he gasped, burying his head in my neck.

I thought so, too.

His arms and legs started to shake from the strain of holding me up and thrusting at just the right angle to drive us both mad, so he pressed me harder against the wall to help bear some of the burden. It scraped my back and crushed the air from my lungs, but the sound of relief and pleasure that came from deep in his chest made it not matter so much. He was able to get a better position when he thrust, hitting a spot that made me gasp and clench in delight. I threw my head back and laughed as the orgasm flowed over me, sharp and sweet, and he bellowed at the resultant clenching and clasping of my body around him.

He collapsed against me, letting his arms dangle loose on either side and resting his head on my shoulder, limp, heavy, and satisfied. I smiled and allowed it for a few minutes before pushing gently at his shoulders and wriggling out from between his tall body and the wall. I buttoned my shirt, pulled down my skirt, and gestured him toward the employee bathroom on the other side of the room.

"You can use that," I told him. I was the only employee in the store that close to quitting time. "But go out the back, just in case a customer comes in."

He held the sagging waist of his jeans in a fist just below his waist, nodding and staggering in a circle as he tried to collect his wits and find the bathroom. I smiled again, something I was afraid I was doing more and more often around him. He was just so damned cute.

"Thanks, Cullen. I feel so much less ragey. See you soon."

**-0-**

"Jeez, she sure pisses you off a lot," he commented a few weeks later as we lay naked and wrecked on a blanket in the woods.

"You complaining?" I stretched lazily, completely relaxed and feeling mellow from the sex.

"Not at all."

"She's such a bitch," I commented, rolling on my stomach to look at him. I let my eyes linger on his body—there was a lot to linger on, to be honest. He was long and lean, with hard, defined muscles that weren't too big and bulky, but cut and strong. Pretty much perfect. "Why do you put up with that shit?"

"Who else am I going to date?" he asked with causal arrogance. He caught me staring, and the look he gave me in return made me tingle.

_Sure as hell not me,_ I thought with an internal grimace. We were having way too much fun to complicate things.

"It's only until we graduate," he continued after a brief pause. "We both know it. She doesn't care about me any more than I care about her—she just sees me as someone to go to parties with, be seen with. She's the best looking girl in school."

"And you're the best looking guy," I finished for him.

He just shrugged, but it was true. Edward Cullen was beautiful. Not just in an "I'm enthralled with what he does to my body" kind of way—he was really beautiful. And while Iceberg really was absolutely stunning to look at, she was evil to the core.

"But you can't even enjoy the package." I waved my hand around. "I mean, you might get off with her, sure, but you don't really have fun. You don't do any of the good stuff with her."

I knew that for a fact, because he did all the good stuff with me. And it was really, really good stuff. Frigid Bitch was dumber than I thought, letting all that go to waste.

I sighed, rolling over onto my back and putting my hands behind my head to stare at the pattern the leaves made on the sky. "That fucking attitude is a lot to put up with for one unsatisfying orgasm every Friday or Saturday night. If you're lucky."

"I put up with your fucking mouth all the time."

I shut my eyes and grinned, knowing his gaze was on my bare breasts. "You love fucking my mouth. And I give you a hell of a lot more orgasms than one a week. And they're hella satisfying."

"Mm," he breathed, sliding across the blanket to cover my body with his. "Right on all counts."

**-0-**

"What happened this time?" he asked a couple of months later. I was bent over a downed tree in the woods that surrounded my house while he took me from behind. His big hands gripped and stroked my waist, ribcage, and back while I scrabbled to clutch the bark as I was _pushed, push-push, pushed_ against it by his thrusts.

"Uh," I grunted, thrilling to the sharp heat and slight discomfort when he hit me deep. I hoped he really didn't expect an answer.

"Did she knock your lunch tray over again?" His fingers dug into my hips as he pulled me back into his thrusts. "Dump your book bag in the parking lot? Let the air out of your tires?"

I rose up on my hands, snarling at the memory. No one messed with Big Red. The truck was sacred.

"There's my girl," he murmured as I threw my weight back, forcing him deeper, making him go faster, lowering and rising on my toes to fuck him even though he covered me from behind.

"Are you trying to piss me off, too?" I panted, concentrating on rotating my hips without knocking him loose.

He moaned. I grinned in triumph, but then his hand landed on my ass with a cracking smack and burning sting of pain. It was so unexpected and so amazingly good that I started shaking and shuddering with my orgasm, shouting to the grey sky, and just lay on the rough surface of the tree as he continued to stroke in and out. I let my body move with his, staring at the dark, wet ground in shock as he finished with a loud, drawn out groan.

He collapsed, letting his weight crush me for only a few seconds before setting his feet under him and running that hand over the curve of my ass. I was pretty sure the bastard was admiring the red mark.

"Did you hit me?" I asked in a quiet, even voice.

The hand stilled, as did the rest of his body.

"I did," he answered calmly.

"Smacked my ass?"

"Yes. That was me."

I straightened, forcing him out of my body, and he took a wary step back as I turned. His eyes were steady on mine, but a flush was rising up his neck and across his cheeks. I arched a brow, and he almost flinched, but he held his ground. He was good. No, he was amazing.

"That was amazing," I told him, jumping at him. He caught me as I reached around and pinched his ass, laughing as I looked up into his face. "Promise me you'll do that again."

"Yeah?" He cocked that fucking eyebrow, a smile tugging at one side of his mouth as his arms came around me.

"Oh, God, yeah."

"I figured it would be my ass you wanted to whup after what Rosalie did to your truck," he said as we dressed.

I scowled and punched his arm. He "ow'd" and cringed obligingly.

"Don't remind me."

He just grinned, and I just shook my head as I stood, holding my hand out to help him. He let me, and walked me back to the edge of trees that circled the back of my house.

"I _really_ hate your fucking girlfriend."

"Good deal."

He held my hand, and we just stood there staring at each other until I pulled away, walking across the yard to the door. I glanced back over my shoulder before I went in, and he raised a hand in a smartass salute before loping back through the woods toward his car.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Yeehaw.**

**Thanks so much for reading.**


	5. Chapter 5

**CH 5**

I got my schedule at school straightened out at Christmas, finally getting the proper transcripts sent from my old school in Arizona. It wasn't a big deal; it just put me in the proper Advanced Placement classes. It was just in time for the new semester, and the interesting part was it put me in those AP classes with Cullen.

I hadn't seen him over the holiday break. I hadn't seen Ice Bitch, either, so she didn't have a chance to piss me off, and I had no reason to fuck him. I had been strangely restless, looking for an excuse to call him or show up at his house, maybe where I knew he hung out with his friends. I didn't, but I wanted to, and that fact bothered me. It's what made me so irritable when I finally did see him in the AP English class second period, sitting cool and handsome in old, worn jeans, a new sweater, and battered Docs. I wanted to straddle his lap and play Ride 'Em Cowgirl right there in Mr. Berty's AP English class.

So I made sure to sneer at him when I walked past to the empty desk Mr. Berty had indicated, and I was infuriated when he coolly ignored me, like I wasn't even there or worth noticing. I knew I'd have been even more pissed had he actually acknowledged me, but it still rankled. I was more aware than I wanted to be of his casually tousled hair and the translucent glow of his pale skin. _Translucent glow of his pale skin?_ I snorted and wanted to beat my head on the desk. I was such a fucking idiot.

He chose that moment to angle his head down and turn his face toward me just the slightest bit. His eyes met mine for the briefest second, and his tongue swept out to slide across his lower lip. Slowly. And then he bit it, rolling it between his teeth like he did with my nipples and other intimate flesh. I flushed hotly and jerked my eyes to the front of the room, studiously not looking at him for the rest of the period. I may have notice how he slouched in his seat, kicking those long legs out in front of him, shifting his hips and linking his hands over his stomach, just above his crotch. I stared. Damn it.

Yeah. Fucking idiot didn't begin to cover it.

Snow Miser Bitch must have still been on a sugar or gift-receiving high, because she left me—disappointingly—alone during lunch. I was contemplating irritating her into trying something so I'd have a proper excuse to jump Cullen later, when I realized I'd be seeing him in my next class—AP Biology. I wondered if he'd ignore me or tease me like he did in English class, and found myself looking forward to seeing what he'd come up with more than I should. I didn't think I could possibly like his mind as much as his rather excellent body, but he was clever and quick, and I admired that in a person.

I walked into the Biology classroom, and of course, my eyes went right to him. He was sitting on a tall, uncomfortable stool at one of the two-person lab stations with Eric Yorkie. My step stuttered as I saw the only empty space was behind him, next to Mike Newton. My nose wrinkled in disgust just as Cullen looked up to see me hovering in the doorway. He immediately cast his eyes down, and I couldn't read his expression. With a sigh of resignation, I trudged down the aisle toward Mike, who was bouncing in his seat with excitement like the large puppy he resembled.

"Hey, Bella! Hi! You're in this class? That's awesome! You can sit next to me."

How the hell had Mike Newton gotten into AP Biology? I wondered glumly. I eyed him narrowly as I approached. I could tell we were going to have to have a discussion about encroachment on personal space. I froze when Cullen's hand shot out to grab my wrist before he dropped it as if burned. I stared at him with my mouth open. He dared touch me? In front of everybody? Was he _crazy_? He was going to blow everything.

"Yorkie. Move. Now." He fixed cool green eyes on the hapless Yorkie, who mirrored my wide-eyed expression.

"What the hell, Edward?" he asked, but gathered his things.

Cullen just jerked his thumb behind him, indicating the empty seat next to Newton. "You're there for the semester."

"But why?" he whined. He slunk from his seat when Cullen just stared at him unblinkingly, just like I was staring at Cullen. What the hell did he think he was doing?

I slid into the now empty seat next to him, trying to get a read on what the hell he was thinking. He just kept his head down after Yorkie did his bidding, focusing on the pen weaving through his fingers. I caught a glimpse of a pale face glaring at me from across the aisle and scowled at Alice Brandon, the Icy Tundra's second in command.

"What's your problem?" I asked, arching a brow.

She looked back and forth between Cullen and me, who still wasn't looking up from the obviously fascinating sight of the damn pen rolling through his long, talented fingers. I got kind of hot looking at it. I squirmed in my seat, trying to get rid of the warm tingles rushing between my legs, and he finally glanced at me with a knowing smirk. Fucker.

Alice's eyes narrowed as she leaned across the aisle. "I don't know what's going on between you two, but I'm keeping my eye you."

She actually jabbed a finger at him and then me, and if she pointed back at herself, I was going to slap her. Cullen glanced at me again in disbelief, and we both burst into giggles. She just pointed at us again, which made the laughter worse, and I had to look away. I felt his leg brush my calf and his foot settle on mine, and it calmed me as much as it turned me on, just like it did every time he touched me.

It was getting out of hand.

I opened my notebook and forced my attention to the front of the room, deliberately moving my foot away from his.

I was on my way to my last class later that day, when I saw Cullen with Deep Freeze at her locker. Alice was leaning against the wall next to them watching me with a hostile expression. I had no choice but to continue by, but I slowed my pace when I realized they were arguing about me.

"I don't know why you had to do that! I mean, Eric was already sitting there. You made a huge scene and embarrassed me in front of everyone."

"It wasn't a huge scene, babe. And how could I embarrass you? You weren't even there."

"Everyone saw how you told him to move so she could sit there. How could you?"

He gave a huff of bored frustration. "You know Yorkie. He forgets to shower most of the time. Would you rather sit next to him than someone who actually smells good?"

"You smell her?" Hoarfrost screeched—emphasis on whore—throwing her book into her locker and spinning to face him. She was turning an unattractive shade of red. Bitch was going to have to watch that.

And boy, did he ever like smelling me. _Heh_.

"No! That's not what I said. I'd just rather not have to gag my way through Biology, okay? Give it a rest, Rose."

Alice reached out and gave Ice Bitch's arm a poke as I passed. I met their eyes defiantly, ignoring Cullen as she click-clicked over to me on her ridiculous heels.

"You stay away from him, do you hear me?" she said shrilly. I just gave her the brow. "As if someone like you could ever even be ten feet beneath his notice."

_Whatever the hell that meant_, I thought. I smirked at her, turning to give Cullen a deliberate once over, taking my time to give him a good old-fashioned eye fuck. It was purely a pleasure, and the twitch at one corner of that delectable mouth told me he knew exactly what I was doing. Good. If he could tell, maybe she could, too. After mentally undressing him and doing perverted things to each of my favorite parts of his body in my head, I turned laughing, lustful eyes back on Princess. I licked my lips lingeringly and lasciviously, finishing with a slow, smacking, obscene pop.

She flipped her shit. It was perfect. The unbecoming red flush turned apoplectic, and she came at me with teeth and nails bared. I tucked my fingers into a fist and prepared to give her one right in the chops if she touched me, but suddenly she was gone.

"Hey there, Mr. Greene," Cullen greeted the principal smoothly. He'd grabbed Frosty by the waist and swung her neatly behind him. I saw his biceps bulge with the effort to hold her in place until she calmed.

"No horseplay in the halls, Mr. Cullen," Greene said sternly, and Cullen just nodded dutifully, like the good little boy everyone thought he was.

I kept walking, and Alice pointed at me austerely, like she had in Biology. I started chuckling and had to hide my face behind my notebook. I looked up at Cullen when he made a choking sound, and saw he was having the same trouble. Snow Queen turned her disbelief on him, smacking him in the head and shoulders, and I got out of there as fast as I could before I broke out in gales of laughter.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Thank you so much for reading, recommending, and reviewing.**


	6. Chapter 6

**CH 6**

Everything changed the day we did blood-typing in Biology.

Cullen and I had continued to be lab partners under the watchful eye of Alice. It was easy—he was easy. Easy to get along with, easy to look at, easy to sleep with. We coasted through our assignments and projects until everything came to a screeching halt the day Mr. Banner passed out little cards and lancets.

"Who turns a bunch of high school kids loose with sharp, deadly objects?" I asked, turning it around in my hands. Blood typing required a little more blood than something like testing blood sugar, so we got a lancet instead of a little pokey needle.

"Yorkie should be an expert," Mike said from behind us. "It's just a little prick, after all."

We all snickered like twelve-year-olds—all of us, that is, except Cullen. He was staring down at his card.

"Mr. Banner," he said as the teacher passed our station. "I think I should be excused. I mean, I know what my blood type is already."

Banner patted his shoulder. "That's really not the point of the exercise, Edward. It's more learning about the process. Okay?"

With a final pat, Banner moved on, and I took a closer look at his unusually pale face.

"Are you okay?" I murmured.

He nodded, but didn't look at me. With a shrug, I picked up the lancet and placed it on my finger.

"I'm A positive," Mike crowed, coming up beside me. "You've got to be, too, Bella, because you are grade A prime."

I grimaced, almost embarrassed for him, but he clapped me on the back just as I set the blade against my skin. I grunted in pain and stared in horror as it sliced across my palm and along my finger. Blood welled and then began dripping down my wrist, plunking in wet, gross plops on the table. Cullen bolted to his feet and lurched sideways, right into me, knocking me off the damn stool. I flailed and everyone shrieked and ducked as I spattered blood. Back I went, ass over elbows, my head meeting the edge of the table behind me, and everything went kind of wonky after that.

I was staring up at the ceiling, and I thought my head probably hurt. I couldn't make my arms move right, and when I tried to clap a hand on top of my head, someone grabbed my wrist and held it. My eyes swung wildly, but I saw Edward's familiar, concerned face hovering over me. It was a sight I was used to, him over me, his face inches from mine as he moved, but he didn't usually look so…worried. He usually looked blissed out. I wondered what was wrong, what we were doing wrong, and then Mr. Banner's face appeared next to Edward's. I recoiled violently, and holy hell, my head _did_ hurt.

"Hold still, Bella," Edward said, reaching for me, his hands cradling my head. I concentrated on his face as nausea threatened. His face was the least nausea-inspiring sight I could imagine. Mr. Banner said something to him, and he nodded, slipping his hands underneath me.

The next thing I knew, I was airborne, held securely against his strong, warm chest. I snuggled in, cradling my hand in the curve of my body as he carried me out the door and down the hall. It was bleeding for some reason. I frowned down at it.

"You cut it when Mike slapped you." I glanced up at Edward's words and saw that he was breathing a little heavier than my weight should indicate. He was also pale and sweating. Breathing hard and sweating were things I was used to seeing him doing, but the paleness was tinged with green.

"Are you okay?" I asked, and he glanced down at me before jerking his eyes forward. I looked down and saw I was pretty well covered in blood. _Ew_.

He gave a snorting chuckle. "I'm fine, Bella. You're the one who cut yourself and hit your head."

"Fucking Newton," I grumbled, lifting my less bloody hand to gingerly probe at my head.

"Yeah," he said in a low, scary voice. "Fucking Newton."

I hadn't realized Banner had followed us until Edward set me down in the nurse's office and the teacher explained what had happened. I found myself bustled onto the exam table as the nurse checked my head and eyes before starting in on my hand. I flinched and hissed, and heard an echoing sound of distress from across the room. Edward had pressed himself up against the opposite wall, making himself about as flat and unobtrusive as he possibly could. He had the strangest look on his face as he watched the nurse bandage my hand. He visibly started when the bell rang, signaling the end of the period. He started inching toward the door.

"Uh, that's the bell," he said stupidly. "I, uh, I should go…class…"

Banner nodded, keeping his attention on my cut as it rapidly disappeared under layers of gauze. "Yes, thank you, Edward. I appreciate your help with Miss Swan."

"Yeah," I said softly, but he wouldn't look at me. "Thanks."

He nodded jerkily and darted out the door. I stared at the empty space he had just occupied.

_Huh._

I hadn't expected him to fall to his knees wailing and wringing his hands, but a little basic concern would have been nice. He'd been very solicitous bringing me to the nurse's office but then he'd acted like he couldn't get away from me fast enough. Like he couldn't be bothered. Like he couldn't give a shit.

And why should he? I scowled down at my hand in my lap as the nurse babbled on about excusing me from the rest of my classes and calling my dad to come get me. I bit my lip and decided I didn't care—about any of it, but especially about Edward fucking Cullen.

**-0-**

I chalked up my weird emotional state over Cullen to the knock on my head. Charlie had come to get me, but I'd convinced him I was fine, didn't need to go to the hospital, and could be left home alone until he had finished his shift. I was lying on the sofa, idly flipping through channels, when the doorbell rang. I ignored it, knowing it certainly wasn't for me, but whoever was there was persistent.

"Fucking hell," I muttered as the buzzing stopped but knocking began. I heaved myself off the sofa and stomped down the hall, opening the door with a snarl. My face fell in shock to see Cullen standing on my front porch, looking sheepish and uncertain, but holding a pint of Ben and Jerry's.

"Hey," he said, his eyes flicking behind me nervously when I didn't say anything right away.

I broke out of my shock and grabbed his sleeve, yanking him inside. I glanced up and down the street, but no one was in sight. No one had seen him, as far as I could tell.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I hissed. I put my hands on my hips and glared at him, but damn. He was so cute. And he was in my house. No Charlie.

"I came to apologize." He held out the ice cream, and I was no fool. I took it. "I kind of acted like a jerk when you, uh, cut yourself."

He gestured at the bandage on my hand, and I watched as he went pale. He swallowed heavily, and I felt my irritation with him melt away.

"Come on," I sighed, heading toward the kitchen clutching my Ben and Jerry's. If his apology was good enough, I just might share.

I pulled two spoons out of the drawer, but held his out of reach. "Explain first."

He sighed, running his hand through his hair.

"I can't stand the sight of blood," he said simply. "It's like some kind of weird phobia. It seriously makes me want to hurl."

I gaped at him. That was the last thing I expected him to say. "No shit?"

He shook his head. "No shit. I get all light headed and woozy. I cut my leg pretty bad when I was fourteen and passed right the fuck out. My mom was hysterical. Thankfully, my dad's a doctor."

"That's right. He is a doctor." I handed him the spoon, and we stood at the sink, eating ice cream. "Huh. That sucks."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Look, don't tell anyone, okay? It's kind of pussy, you know?"

I shook my head and then nodded. He cocked an eyebrow inquiringly, and I grinned. "No, I won't tell anybody. And yes, it is a little on the pussy side."

He rolled his eyes, reaching for another spoonful of his peace offering. "Thanks. I just wanted to apologize and make sure you were okay. You didn't go to the hospital."

"No, I'm okay. It really wasn't all that bad. The nurse at school agreed," I looked at him with curiosity. "How did you know I didn't go to the hospital?'

"I, uh, called my dad." He flushed but met my gaze. "I was worried about you."

He just watched me, and my breathing began to deepen and come more rapidly. He'd been worried about me. About _me_. He'd put aside his extreme squeamishness with blood to carry me to the nurse's office and stay until my hand had been bandaged and was sure I was okay. I was so taken aback that I didn't know what to say, so I said, "Upstairs."

"What?"

"Upstairs. My bedroom. Now."

"Bella—"

"Hurry." I took his hand and ran up the stairs.

Clothes flew, and I fell back on my bed, spreading my legs. He grabbed a condom out of the pocket of his jeans, put it on, and crawled between them. I grabbed his arms and prepared for a quick, forceful entry, but he just pressed his hips to mine and brought his arms up to rest his weight on his elbows on either side of my head. I wriggled—I could feel his erection twitching against the welcoming heat between my legs—but he smiled lopsidedly down at me and burrowed his long fingers though my hair.

"Your head, it's okay?" he asked softly, rubbing my scalp, feeling for the bump. I squinted my eyes when he found it, but his touch was so gentle, it didn't hurt at all.

"My head's fine," I told him, impatient but quieting under his touch. I was a little confused and a lot bewildered by the look in his eyes as he examined each of my features.

"And your hand? It doesn't hurt?" He loosened one hand from my hair to trail down the length of my arm and take my hand in his, bringing it up so he could look at it. It was still bandaged, so I wasn't sure why.

I swallowed as his green eyes met mine. "It's fine, too," I whispered.

He kissed my knuckles right where the gauze ended, and then my fingers, my thumb, my wrist. "I'm sorry you got hurt."

"I am, too."

He smiled, placing my hand carefully on the pillow next to my head. "I'm sorry I acted like a jerk.

"I am, too." I grinned, but it faltered as he shifted and pushed, just barely breaching the entrance to my body.

"I'm sorry I couldn't stay with you. Hold your other hand. Take you home."

He lowered his head, and I shut my eyes, anticipating the feel of his mouth on mine, something I'd only felt once or twice, but I felt the heat of his lips and the scrape of his teeth on my neck instead. I tired to hold back a huff of disappointment.

"I am, too."

He lifted his head to look at me, searching for the truth of my words, and it was right there for him to see. He entered me slowly, so slowly, watching me the entire time. I tried to hold his gaze, until the feeling was too much, the full, burgeoning pleasure too strong, and I arched, pushing my head back on the pillow, not able to hold back the moan that poured out of me.

He sighed, lowering his head so his cheek lay against mine and thrust languidly, deeply, taking the time to enjoy every last drag and slide. We could take our time, not rush, be cramped, or freeze our asses. He brought me so close, again and again. I wanted it so bad and wanted to wait even more, until the conflicting desires didn't matter and I was coming, just from him inside me, the warmth and comfort of him, the constant, escalating desire and need for him, for his body.

It was the first time we'd had sex in a bed.

It was the first time we'd had sex without his fucking girlfriend pissing me off beforehand.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Can't tell you guys how happy I am you're having fun with the story – thank you.**


	7. Chapter 7

**CH 7**

The day I'd cut myself in Biology was the first time we had sex without the Ice Breathing Dragon pissing me off first, but certainly wasn't the last. I swore that he spent more time with me than her as the winter months dragged into the first signs of spring, and not all of that time was spent in bed—or wherever else we found to be together.

We did, however, spend a lot of time there, in bed, both his and mine. We liked having the room to play, not to mention the comfort. Winters in Forks were damp and really chilly, and getting naked outside wasn't an option a lot of days. Even his well-insulated car was pushing it most times. With Charlie's odd shifts and his mom and dad both working as well during the week, we managed to spend most afternoons screwing each other's brains out and really, really enjoying it. He wasn't shy and there wasn't a reticent bone in his body when it came to anything we did, and in that we were perfectly matched. There wasn't anything I couldn't talk to him about. I never worried he wouldn't understand or that he would judge me on any subject, sexually or intellectually.

He was just a good time—the entire package.

I decided that Princess was not only a small minded, self-centered, raving bitch, but—most unforgiveable—she was butt stupid. How she wasn't taking advantage of everything he was, all he had to offer, I had no idea. How she could resist him, I had no idea. I sure couldn't, even though I knew the situation was completely beyond what I'd originally intended and rapidly escalating out of control. All he had to do was smile, lick his luscious lower lip, or wink, and I was gone. That wasn't how it was supposed to go, but there we were.

And where we were at that moment was in my bed. I liked his better because it was bigger, but he liked mine because it was smaller. It was a good-natured argument we'd had many times, but in the end, it didn't really matter to me. As long as we were together in somebody's bed, I didn't care.

He lingered at my breasts—he always seemed to enjoy them so much—and then kissed his way down my stomach, pausing to smile up at me before lifting my legs, spreading them, and settling his shoulders in between. I sighed, running my fingers through the cool strands of his fiery hair, and opened my knees wider.

I sighed again, dreamily, as he set his mouth on me. He'd gotten so much better at it over the past few months. The first time he'd gone down on me, he admitted he'd never done it before—boy, did I change that right quick—and it had been tickly and odd. He'd wanted me to show him, tell him what I liked, what he should do, and I was more than willing to let him work on his technique as often as he wanted. He was doggedly determined and became very proud of the fact that he could have me gasping, growling, and pleading within minutes.

Add sweating, yanking, and writhing to that equation, and that's right where I was—on the edge, filled with his scent, warmth, his fingers. Oh, God, his mouth. Tongue. Lips and teeth on flesh so sensitized it was exquisite. I came, my body taut and tuned to every swipe, lick, and gentle bite.

"So good," I breathed, unable to open my eyes, lift my hand, or even smile. I felt his head settle on my belly, and it was the perfect finish. So weighted and warm and silky soft, right above where I throbbed in heavy accompaniment to my heartbeat, a lingering echo of the stroke of his mouth and tongue.

"Good deal," he whispered, lying heavy and prone with his shoulders between my legs. I squeezed him with my thighs, locking my ankles around his torso, and I felt his smile against my stomach. He ran his hands up and down my calves, around my knee, tickled the inside of my thigh. "I just want to lay here with you like this all afternoon."

"Charlie won't be home for a few more hours," I told him. "We don't have to move until then."

He sighed. "I've got to get home. I have some things I need my parents to look over and sign and stuff."

"Oh yeah?" I asked, my eyes drifting closed and fingers sifting through his hair.

"Yeah. I'm not going to have as much time after school. Baseball starts pretty soon."

My eyes opened, and I stared at the ceiling, frowning. "You play baseball?"

I felt his shrug. "Yeah."

"I didn't know that."

"Well, there's no reason you would. You just started school here in the fall. You wouldn't have seen me play before, and practice hasn't started yet. Not for another week or so."

My frown remained as I glanced down at the top of his head. It felt like it was something I should have known about him. I'd seen him in a letter jacket, but I'd simply admired and never really wondered why he had it. It was just a prop to his usual deliciousness. I didn't like the fact baseball practice—and later the games—would take some of our too little time together, but I was getting very selfish where he was concerned. Jealous of his time. Maybe even just jealous.

"Doesn't Bitchy Poo mind that you spend so much time away from her?" I asked, trying to hog-tie that nasty little green-eyed monster inside me.

"Bitchy Poo?" He snorted, disentangling himself from my legs and sat up, trying to smooth his rumpled hair. I patted the pillow next to me, and he slid up to prop himself against the headboard, pulling me against his chest and wrapping his arms around me. "No. I don't even think she's noticed. Not as long as I'm there to escort her to the party after the game on the occasional Friday night, maybe when she wants to go out and been seen on a Saturday. The Spring Formal is coming up soon. I'll probably have to take her to that."

Cullen in formal wear. _Yes, please_. I'd have to have him wear it for me just so I could admire and then strip him out of it. And then really admire. I set my head on his bare shoulder and admired that. I couldn't help myself.

"My boyfriend back in Arizona, Jake, he played baseball for ASU."

"Like us baseball boys, do you?" He smirked.

"I didn't even know you played until today," I pointed out.

"So, Jake," he prodded comfortably. "You've never mentioned an old boyfriend. I knew you didn't get all this knowledge just from reading."

His eyebrow quirked, daring me to contradict him.

"Well, I do read a lot, and erotica these day is not only surprisingly well written, it's quite educational."

"I don't doubt it." A smile curled one corner of his mouth as he waited patiently for me to continue.

"I like sex. I've always been precocious," I shrugged, and he made an amused sound. "But I'm smart enough to be safe, and be careful in who I pick. Usually. I've only been with Jake and now you."

"Huh."

"What, huh?"

"That wasn't a judgey 'huh,'" he told me mildly. "It's just you're awfully good at it. And confident. It's what attracted me to you."

"Other than the fact I was willing to blow you the same minute I introduced myself?"

"You blew me before you introduced yourself," he said with a grin. "But yeah. You were so confident, so at ease with yourself. I hadn't seen that in a girl before. It was amazingly sexy. I was intrigued."

"And going down on you had nothing to do with it," I said dryly.

"Well, you did have me at 'blowjob,'" he admitted with a laugh, and I had to join him at the cheesy misquote. "But that wasn't the only thing. Seriously. You're a sexy, intriguing, beautiful girl, Bella Swan, and I was dying of curiosity and wanting to know more about you. Even with that smart fucking mouth."

"You like—"

"Fucking your mouth," he finished, rolling his eyes. "I know. And I do. But I also like what comes out of it, too. Talking. Waiting to see what you'll come up with next. I never know what it will be, but I do know it will be fascinating."

That might have been the best compliment I'd ever been given. I liked the "you're sexy and amazing in bed" part—not gonna lie—but the fact that he really enjoyed talking to me, listening to me, that he looked forward to it…yeah. That felt pretty amazing, too. I felt the smile cross my mouth and thought it might take a while before it left.

"So, your turn," I told him.

"Well, I wasn't any good at this until you came along."

I turned to look at him—at the second amazing compliment in as many minutes. He turned to meet my look and shrugged. "It's true.'

"It isn't," I protested, remembering that first time in the back seat of his car, how he'd just known how to hold me, how to move, to watch and listen to what made us both feel good and then make it better. How he always seemed to do that. "I wouldn't have come back for more if you hadn't been pretty damn amazing."

"Yeah?" he asked, sounding pleased, and I realized I wasn't the only one that liked hearing compliments.

"Yeah. Otherwise I'd just devised a way to kill your fucking girlfriend and get rid of the body. My dad's a police officer. I know many useful ways to hide evidence. And bodies."

"I'll keep that in mind. You're already ornery enough when you get pissed, but now I know how to talk you down."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He grinned. "And it doesn't involve talking at all."

"You're avoiding the question."

"What question?"

I just gave him the brow, and he sighed.

"I've known Rosalie forever," he said with a shrug. "We started going out, and at first I was all 'wow' and 'holy shit' and 'this is the best thing ever,' but then… everything just became kind of by rote. I mean, I was a seventeen-year-old kid. Of course I wanted to have sex, but…"

He shrugged again, and I thought about what he'd said. It seemed kind of sad, because he liked the things we did, experimenting, having fun, doing some crazy stuff. I couldn't imagine him just climbing on top, pumping a few times, and rolling off. How incredibly fucking boring, and what a hideous shame. He was so good at the fun stuff, and even better, he really seemed to enjoy it.

He gave me a sly, almost shy look through his long lashes. "It was weird, being with her. What she did."

I snorted. "She's weird? You don't call what we're doing—what we do—weird?"

He laughed. "No, not like that. What we do is good weird. Really, really good." He grinned at me, and I had to return it, because he was fucking right. "I mean, she's weird in a weird way about sex—getting naked, that kind of stuff."

"What, she just pulls up her skirt or shoves down her jeans and turns her head? Lets you go at it?"

"No, not exactly. She likes to be naked, but not for me."

"Who else is she naked for?" I wondered why in the world she'd want to sleep with someone else.

He chuckled. "Not like that. She's a little narcissistic, right?"

"Yeah," I said slowly, not getting what he was trying to say, and then it hit me. "Oh, shit. You don't mean…?"

"Yeah." He watched the dawning horror on my face. "She really is in love with herself. She likes her own body. Likes to see it, you know?"

I shook my head violently and held my hand up to him, begging him to stop, trying not to laugh. The mental image… _Oh, fucking hell no_. "Shut up, please."

"I wasn't allowed to touch her more than necessary," he continued despite my protests and exaggerated retching noises. "I was supposed to just brace myself over her while she ran her hands all over her body. It was kind of sexy at first, but then, ugh."

"Ugh is right. Please stop." I bit back horrified amusement.

"Her favorite was doing it in front of a mirror. I stood behind her, and she watched, running her hands all over herself. It was kind of awkward. I mean, she wouldn't even bend over or anything, so it was hard to…well, you know. I guess it blocked her view too much or something. It was just weird. Like I didn't even need to be there at all."

I was staring at him, my eyes bugging out and my mouth wide open. He'd managed to do something most people have been trying to do my entire life—render me speechless. He must have noticed, because he flushed and did that shrugging thing with one shoulder.

"That's so fucking creepy," I managed to whisper. "It's a wonder you're not scarred for life."

He laughed, grabbing me around the waist and pulling me on top of him so I straddled his hips. "It's you. You're saving my sanity. Showing me how things should be."

He was joking, trying to lighten the mood, but we both stilled as we stared at each other, feeling the truth of his words. What was between us was how it should be. It hadn't started out that way, but at some point things had changed. What we did was how it should feel to make love.

Oh, shit.

Make love.

Was that what we'd started doing? It was still fucking, because we both really liked that, but it was different. More necessary. More tempting, irresistible, all encompassing. Was I starting to care about him?

I was. I really was.

"What?" he asked, examining my face, reaching up to push my hair behind my ears. I had to close my eyes at the tenderness behind the gesture. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to creep you out. I shouldn't have told you."

"No, you shouldn't have, because—damn. But that's not it. It's just…" I took a deep breath and forced myself to meet his eyes. There were so close, just under me, soft, intense, and so very green. "How do you feel about what _we_ do?"

The hand that was stroking the hair behind my ear went to my cheek. He didn't blink, but I felt his chest expand as he, too, took a deep breath.

"I love it."

A violent shiver ran through my body in reaction to his words. His eyes flared, and he strained up to take my mouth, kissing me, and that was something we rarely did. He wanted to make up for lost time, it seemed, because he wrapped his arms around my waist and rolled so I was underneath him, like he was afraid I'd try to escape. And then he really kissed me.

It was fantastic.

He tasted spicy and warm and so, so good. I knew he had a wicked and clever mouth, having experienced his skill with it other places on my body—all over my body. It was different, that kiss, those kisses. He felt less studied, less in control, his emotions guiding him instead of concentrating on technique. I went wild at the change in him, sinking my nails into his arms, pulling him down, me up, rising to get closer, opening wide and taking everything he needed to give me. I wanted to be able to give him something, too.

"Tell me what you want," I whispered when he lifted his head for a second.

We stared at each other, panting, lips heavy with wanting to touch again. I'd asked him before in the throes of passion, and he me—many, many times—but he knew that time was different. He knew, in that way he had, in the way he was starting to know me, that I was asking about something more. And that was kind of scary.

He was silent for a few minutes, and I felt him shift above me as he put the condom on. He never took his eyes from mine, so when he whispered, "You," I knew he wasn't just talking about by body. Sex. Fucking. Even making love, although for the first time, we both thought maybe that was a part of what was between us.

He entered me but still didn't look away. Not when he moved, not when I matched him, not when I came and he gritted his teeth, the tendons in his neck straining, the vein in his forehead throbbing, trying to hold on as I came again, not when he gasped and rocked and cried out with his orgasm. Only when the pulses stopped, the contractions slowed, and the strength in his arms gave out did he close his eyes and kiss me. And kiss me and kiss me.

"What do you want, Bella?" he asked sometime later, when we were stirring, knowing we had to leave the bed and get dressed, go back to the real world.

I stopped and stared at him, wondering if anyone had ever asked me that before. I looked at him, really looked, and saw him, the real him, the one he kept hidden from everyone at school. The one I only ever saw when he was alone with me.

"You," I blurted, and knew that was exactly what I wanted. "I want you. I want you to not sleep with your fucking girlfriend any more."

I didn't know where that had come from, but it was the complete truth. He stared at me as he pulled his jeans on, and I waited in an agony of suspense until he nodded and bent down for his shoes.

"Okay."

Okay? _Okay_? That was it?

"That's it?" I demanded, hands on hips. I knew he'd look up, because I was only in my bra and jeans, and I might have made sure my breasts jiggled just enough.

He smiled, pulling on his shirt and walking over to me. He put his large palms over each breast, squeezing appreciatively and leaning down for a kiss. "Yep. Okay. I haven't slept with her for long time now, anyway. For a very long time."

"Oh. Good." I frowned, wondering what that meant.

He dropped his hands, but just stood close, not moving away, until I met his gaze. "I'd do that for you. And anything else you might ask me, too."

He paused, waiting, and there was some kid of meaning in his eyes, something I was supposed to understand but didn't. I searched his expression, but I didn't know what he was trying to say.

"Okay," I whispered, wishing desperately he'd just tell me. I'd give him anything he asked, too, if I could. "Thanks."

I saw a flash of disappointment, and I almost felt like I wanted to cry. I didn't want to disappoint him. He smiled and kissed me, and I realized I was clinging to him just a little as I returned it.

"I've got to go."

"Okay." I struggled to say something meaningful, something that expressed how I felt, but I didn't know what I was feeling. Mixed up. Messed up. Wanting him. "I'll see you later, Edward."

He smiled, wide and brilliant, and I felt a little better.

"Good deal, Bella," he said softly, kissing me soundly one last time, and then he was down the stairs and gone.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Thank you so much for reading.**


	8. Chapter 8

**CH 8**

"I want" became our catchphrase, like a game we'd started to play, where we could hide behind playfulness and safely ask for things we really wanted from each other.

He told me he wanted to take me out to dinner, someplace public, where we'd be forced to keep our clothes on, just to see if we could. I told him I'd take that challenge, that I wanted to go to dinner with him. We went to a great restaurant in Port Angeles that overlooked the water on the pier downtown. We had decided to go during the week, to lessen the chance of being seen by any of our classmates or their inquisitive parents, but it was even better for going on an off night. The waiter was attentive and amusing, making the night more fun and relaxing right up until the end, just as we were getting ready to leave.

Edward had paid the bill, telling the waiter to keep the change as he handed the folder with cash and the check back to him. The guy thanked us with a smile, leaning down to say in Edward's ear, "I wish my girlfriend looked at me like that. You two have a good night."

Our eyes flew together, and he slowly stood, waiting politely for me to rise and helping me on with my light coat before putting his hand on the small of my back to escort me toward the front door. As we walked through the dining room, I thought about the waiter's words.

Girlfriend. I wasn't his girlfriend. I wasn't sure what I was—what we were to each other. Fuckbuddies, sure. Friends, probably. Boyfriend and girlfriend? Not even close.

We paused once we were outside and wandered over to the rail that ringed the second floor parking lot to look out over the water. Edward was quiet, casting me occasional glances before he finally reached out to take my hand.

"I want you to smile," he said quietly.

I swallowed and managed a shaky one for him. According to the rules of our little game, it was my turn to ask, but I was too scared to say what I really wanted. It wasn't a game to me any longer.

"I want you to kiss me," I whispered, and he did.

It was soft, gentle. His lips touched mine, moved, ghosted over my lower one, brushed my upper, settled in, parted, until he touched me with the tip of his tongue. He pulled away to rest his forehead on mine, hands coming up to bring me closer into a hug.

"Next week is the Spring Formal," he said, and I leaned back in his arms to give him an inquiring look.

I knew the dance was the next week, and I knew he'd be taking his fucking girlfriend to one of the last big events to see and been seen at Forks High. That didn't bother me so much—I really hated dancing and especially school dances—it was the fact that their group of friends were going to the Brandon's weekend hunting cabin to spend the night. I knew he hadn't been sleeping with Princess, but I didn't know how he'd be able to maneuver his way out of it that night if he went with them.

He took a breath, held it. Blew it out. Took another.

"Bella." His eyes were determined and slightly defiant. "Bella. I want to go to the Spring Formal with you."

I felt the shock of numbness leave tingles all throughout my body. I couldn't believe he'd suggest it. I couldn't believe he'd want that. I was so glad he wanted that, but I just…couldn't. Why couldn't things just stay the way they were? I didn't want any complications that close to graduation, when I was almost free, almost on my own—and the boy had entanglement written all over him. Commitment. Relationship. The tingles inside me intensified and spread. _Oh, God_.

I wanted him. What good was being on my own, when it meant I wouldn't be able to see him anymore? I was so tired of trying to deny what I felt for him, not admitting it or letting him see. But he was leaving—he was going to college in another state in just a few short months—and I was staying in Washington, in Seattle. What the fuck was I going to do? I needed to think, I needed time to _just…fucking…think_.

"I want to dance with you at the Spring Formal."

He held my hands, tightening his grip when I would have pulled away in automatic reaction. Why was he pushing? Couldn't he see I didn't want that? But of course he couldn't, because I did want that. Deep down, beyond my best intentions, past all the good reasons I thought I had not to want it, I did.

Edward." I blinked rapidly and swallowed, horrified to realize that tears threatened. I'd never cried a day in my life. Not over a boy. Not over anyone. "Edward, I… I want… Edward. I can't. I don't dance—we can't go to a school dance."

He held my arms, staring down at me. I stared back, full of fear and anxiety, figuring that was it, that was when my crazy would finally drive him away, but he just gathered me close once again, holding me and rocking slowly back and forth.

"Okay," he whispered into my hair. I felt him sigh, and he stepped away to take my hand, leading me to the car.

"I wanted you to have fun tonight," I said miserably. I'd ruined our night.

"I did," he assured me. "I always have fun with you."

He opened the car door, sitting me safely inside before getting behind the wheel. I put my hand on his arm as he started the car, and the smile he turned toward me was touched with a little sadness. I hated seeing that in his beautiful smile—it was one of the things I liked best about him—and I broke our game etiquette again.

"I want… The night of the Spring Formal, I want you to meet me outside. In the stadium." I wanted that chance to get him away from Ice Queen. I knew it was fucked up, but I was fucked up. My head. My heart.

"I want to meet you at the stadium during the dance," he told me softly. His fingers reached out over the console, and after a second, I placed my hand in them.

"I don't want to wear a dress," I warned him. "But I want you to wear a suit."

"I'll wear a suit. I just want to see you."

"I want you to see me. I want to see you in that suit."

He smiled, squeezing my hand, and the drive back to Forks was made mostly in silence. I didn't want to leave when he pulled up to my house and parked at the end of the driveway.

"I want to tell you I had a really good time," I said, leaning over the center console for a kiss.

"I want you to know I had a really good time."

"I don't want to go," I said against his mouth.

"I don't want you to go."

"I want you." I put my hand between his legs.

"God, Bella. I want you, too."

I leaned even closer toward him, slipping my hand into his back pocket, struggling to pull out his wallet. I fished the condom I knew he kept there and tossed it onto his lap while I sat back in my seat and wiggled out of my jeans. I thought his eyes were going to bug out of his head as he glanced frantically between my quickly baring body and the front of my house.

"Are you serious? Is your dad home?"

"His cruiser isn't here."

He scowled, but leaned back as I reached for his jeans and quickly freed his erection, hearing him mumble "police" and "gun" and "daughter," and then "jail" and finally a full sentence. Well, almost a sentence.

"Oh. Oh, yeah."

I rolled the condom down his length and crawled over his lap. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides as I held him in my hand, positioning him, slicking and sliding until I could slip him inside, and we both gasped as he filled me. There was no room, and my leg was cramping as I hunched awkwardly over him, the steering wheel jabbing me in the back, but the look on his face made it all worthwhile. I knew there was no way I could come all scrunched up like I was, but watching his face as I managed to lift and rock my hips filled me with pleasure. He gasped and sighed, features contorting and smoothing, mouth pursing and smiling and grimacing until finally he came, his body spasming under me.

I lifted off him and started pulling my jeans on, glancing at the clock. "Wow, Look at the time. Good thing that didn't take long, because my dad should be home any minute."

He laughed, his head lolling back on the headrest, eyes shut, dick still exposed in his lap. I grinned and leaned over to give him one last kiss.

"You should probably put that away before he pulls in the driveway. Just saying. Good night, Edward, and thanks so much for dinner."

I was out of the car and laughing my way down the sidewalk to the front door as I heard him scrambling and spluttering behind me. I didn't even feel bad about teasing him or leaving him to deal with the mess. He'd come, after all, and I hadn't.

I grinned all the way into the house and up the stairs. I was still smiling as I changed into my sleep clothes, brushed my teeth, and slipped into bed.

I was even smiling as I fell asleep. Damn him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Trust. That's all I'm saying. See you tomorrow.**


	9. Chapter 9

**CH 9**

The night of the Spring Formal, I might have stalked him a little, but it was all Armani's fault. The thought of the well-tailored formal wear on his tall, wide-shouldered, lean hipped, masculine form was too much for me to resist. I hid out near the parking lot, just out of sight in the edge of the trees, as he pulled up in his fancy little Volvo behind Alice's Porsche, which was being driven by Jasper Whitlock. I watched as he got out, feeling vaguely ashamed, but way too curious, interested, and jealous to let it stop me.

He looked amazing, like a male model and much older than his eighteen years. The perfectly cut dark pants, jacket over a crisp, snowy shirt, and matching dark tie were absolutely breathtaking. The reds in his perfectly tousled hair gleamed and sparked in the weak evening sunlight, and he ran his hand through it in a familiar gesture as he rounded the back of the car. He opened the passenger door, and I had to bite back a laugh as he turned his head to listen to something Jasper said. His inattention made Queen Bitch scramble to get out of her seat unassisted in her fancy, tight dress.

She snapped something at him, turning haughtily, but he just shrugged and shut the car door, sinking his hands in his pockets and following slowly in her wake. I whipped out my phone and texted a quick line, hoping it got to him before he was out of my line of sight. I tapped my finger on the case impatiently, and a wide grin broke out across my face as I saw him start and reach into his pants pocket a few yards from the front entrance. His head bent as he read the screen and then snapped up, whipping around to look toward the empty, quiet football stadium. I nodded to myself in satisfaction, knowing I'd be on his mind until he could meet me there later.

I turned and headed back toward my truck, parked out of sight, scrolling through my texts to delete the one I'd just sent and the one I'd received in response.

_I want to molest you._

_I want to let you._

**-0-**

A little over an hour later, I found myself pacing under the stands in the stadium, clutching my jacket around me and trying to stay warm. I don't know what had possessed me to wear a loose, short skirt with just the tiniest of thongs underneath it in the chilly Pacific Northwest spring, but… I thought of seeing Edward earlier in his suit, and not only did I remember, but I got just a little bit warmer. Okay, a lot warmer. Yeah. That was why.

_Where the hell was he?_ I'd texted him to let him know I was there—as far as he knew, for the first and only time that night. He'd said he'd be out in ten minutes, but it was getting closer to twenty. I bounced around on my toes and was just about ready to text him back to have him meet me in the car, when I felt hands on my waist, felt warm breath in my ear.

"That better be you, Cullen," I murmured, shutting my eyes in pleasure as I felt his lips on my neck.

He kissed his way up to my ear, breathing deeply, deliberately, and his warm breath heated my skin, sending gooseflesh of reaction and awareness rippling over me. I felt his fingers—they were warm, too, thank goodness—reach for the bottom of my skirt, skimming the hem and bare skin just above my knee. I tried to turn, but he grabbed my hips and walked me forward a couple of steps.

"I want to see you," I protested as both hands returned to my skirt, flipping it up, and I heard his sharp intake of breath when he saw the bare cheeks of my ass.

"Oh, yeah."

"Edward," I insisted, trying to turn again. "I want to see you in your suit."

"Later," he said, and I heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper lowering and then the rustle of fabric. "If I don't have you right now, I can't be responsible for any stains on my suit pants."

"Gross. Can't have that," I murmured as he eased my upper body forward so I braced both hands against the wall of the concession stand. His hands tilted my hips, his feet kicked my ankles apart, and then he was pushing inside, slowly, his hands stroking, fingers searching, making me wet, until he could slide deep.

I gasped, and he stilled, his big hands moving around to cup the cool skin of my ass. "Are you okay? Bella?"

"Good," I sighed, closing my eyes and letting my head hang as my fingers clenched on the cold masonry wall. "You feel so good."

"Okay. Yeah. I've been wanting you, wanting this, all night."

He kept his pace maddeningly slow, easing in and holding, pulling out, dragging each stroke. I tried to push back against him, urge him, tip him over the edge, but he was relentless despite the cold air, the public location, the school grounds, and the fact his fucking girlfriend was waiting for him inside the building only a couple of hundred yards away.

"Damn you, Edward," I said shakily when he rebuffed every one of my attempts to hurry, for more, harder, faster.

"Mm," he responded, his hands holding me still. "Sh."

I gritted my teeth and absorbed the thrill of him inside me, of being with him so intimately, of the fucking, the sex, the lovemaking. All of it. All of him. I felt the slight tremble course though his tall body, felt his tempo increase slightly, a little more, a little more, until he bent over me, chest to my back, and lost himself to the rush for climax.

I came, blinking back stars, my body jerking and shaking under his, feeling him do the same as his arms pressed me into the hard curve of his body. Our breathing rasped in harsh counterpoint to one another's as he supported me, bringing me to stand upright against him. He slipped from my body and turned so his back hit the wall, holding me against him in the dark of the cool night air.

"Your suit," I protested weakly, snuggling into his embrace. Yes. I snuggled.

"Fuck my suit," he panted, bending his head and turning mine up so he could kiss me.

"As many times as you'll wear it," I said.

He held me like that until my breathing calmed and my legs started to get tired. I pulled away reluctantly, turning to face him when I heard a curious rustling and crinkling sound. He held up a travel pack of wipes, and we both chuckled as he cleaned up after us.

"It's just another thing you taught me," he said, kissing me and taking my hand after throwing everything away in one of the garbage bins. "How to be prepared."

I was surprised but undeniably glad when he didn't want to return to the dance or his date right away. He led me into the stands, climbing up the stairs until we were at the railing, many feet above the ground. We could see the lights, people, and festivities taking place inside the building. He was silent, his face turned toward the school, but he didn't seem to be focused on anything in particular until he tipped his head down to look at me.

"I want to stay here with you," he said, and I smiled at his continued participation in our little game of "I wants."

I wanted that, too, but knew it wasn't something I could have. The "I wants" that trembled on the tip of my tongue were all things I couldn't have, so I forced them back, even though my eyes watered with the force of needing to tell him—to ask him, to have him be willing, to want the same things.

"I want you to hold me," I finally said, because I did want that, but I wanted it for longer than a few minutes, even a few hours. I wanted to know he was always there to do it when the urge came, that I could count on him, that he had the same needs and desires I did.

His arms came around me, tight, strong, secure, and everything I could possibly desire, except for permanent. Warm, though, and I really needed that, so I entwined my legs with his and absorbed the heat of him. A loud burst of sound—laughter, music, voices—broke our intimate bubble when some people from the dance opened one of the side doors to come outside to smoke or for some fresh air. He sighed, taking my face in his big hands and lifting my head for a kiss.

"I don't want to go."

"Then don't," I whispered, letting everything I felt, what I couldn't say, show on my face. It was dark, and although his eyes searched my features, I didn't think he could see. "My dad's working the overnight tonight, and your parents don't expect you back, right?"

My heart cramped, and my stomach rolled. They didn't expect him back, because he was supposed to go the Brandon's cabin with his fucking girlfriend and her friends. It made me feel sick. The thought of him, naked with her, touching her, even a little, her hands on him… I started shaking with anger and repulsion. Jealousy ate at me like acid.

His hand started rubbing my arms, mistaking my reaction for cold. I looked at his handsome, serious face, and I knew I was lost. I'd fallen for him—so hard. My mouth opened, but the words I wanted so desperately to say wouldn't come. I shut my eyes, warring with myself, and forced out what I could.

"Don't go, Edward. Tonight, to the cabin. Don't go with her."

His expression tightened with an emotion I couldn't decipher. "Bella…"

"Please," I said desperately, and his eyes widened before he kissed me.

I put everything into it, what I couldn't say with words. It was a frenzy of lips and teeth and tongue, pushing and pressing, fingers grabbing and digging deep, bodies fighting for relief and expression. He pushed me back up against the rail until we were breathless, gasping, filled with love and lust, emotions we had no idea what to do with.

"Bella," he said, looking down at me. "Bella, I don't want to go. I want to spend tonight with you. But…"

"But?" I prompted on a scared breath.

"But I want more than one night, or a series of one nights, or an occasional night. I want all your nights. I don't want to go with them later, with my fucking girlfriend. I want to stay here with you, looking up at the stars and just holding your hand, knowing we've got tonight and every other night stretched out ahead of us. I want more than just fucking each other to get back at her. Bella, I want more. I want you. I want _you_ to be my fucking girlfriend."

I staggered back, coming up hard against the rail behind me. He took a step back, giving me room when I brought both hands up to my head, grabbing at my hair while I tried to think—to process what he'd said. And he'd said everything I felt, everything I couldn't articulate. He was so much braver, so much smarter, so much better at it than I was, but that's why I loved him so damn much. I turned in a circle as my brain raced, trying to come up with words as perfect as his, but I was stupefied. I collapsed on the cold metal bench, burying my face in my hands, and struggled to come up with something to say that would mean as much to him as what he'd just said to me.

"Edward, I can't…" _I can't think_. "I don't…" _I don't know what to say_. "I don't want…" _I don't want to lose you._

I huffed in frustration and fought tears. I knew what I felt, and he deserved to hear it, to know, to be given the same gift he'd just offered to me, but the words just wouldn't come. I needed to calm down, to think, but I couldn't, not when my heart was pounding, my stomach leaping, happiness and lust and love all tangling inside me for the first time in my life. I was stunned and overwhelmed, but I needed to get a grip on it. As I tried to not hyperventilate with all of the whirling emotions choking me, I felt his hand on my head. His lingering touch never failed to bring every one of my senses to alert, but then it was gone. I took a deep breath, and then another, willing my racing heart to slow, the adrenaline to abate so I could at least try to speak coherently. I was such a fucking mess. He was going to have to get used to it, I thought, if he was going to hang around. The thought brought a smile to my face, and it calmed me enough that I thought I might be coherent when I told him I loved the shit out of him.

I laughed shakily and scrubbed at my face, bringing my hands down to rub my thighs nervously before raising my head and sending him a sheepish smile.

But he wasn't there.

I looked around in surprise until I saw his tall form walking slowly away, descending the last set of stairs before reaching the field and the entrance to the stadium. My mouth dropped open as I shot to my feet in stunned amazement. Why was he leaving? Hadn't he just told me he wanted to be with me, in the open, no sneaking around? Hadn't I told him…

I collapsed back to the bench in dawning horror. What exactly had I told him? Nothing. I'd only been able to get out "I can't" and "I don't want" when he'd opened his heart to me, baring himself with courage I would never possess.

_Oh, fuck. What had I done?_

I jumped to my feet, rushing to the rail and leaning over it in desperation.

"Edward!" I shouted, straining toward his retreating figure, willing him to stop. "Edward!"

I saw his shoulders flinch, but he kept walking. Walking away. His hands were sunk into his pockets, his shoulders hunched. I'd hurt him. He'd been brave enough to open himself up to me, and in my usual blundering, fucked up way, I'd hurt him. It was completely unintentional, but the fact remained that I had. Enough to make him walk away, when all I wanted to do was get on the damn microphone and announce to every person in Forks over the stadium PA system that I was in love with Edward Cullen.

I realized in that moment I was no better than Rosalie Hale. We'd both been using him for no other reason than he was handsome and a teenage boy with a healthy libido. We'd each used his good nature and hormones for our own selfish purposes, and although he had gotten something from both of us, too, the fact remained we had been using him. It was unacceptable.

I watched as he entered the building and knew I had to fix what I'd done. I had to make it clear and in no uncertain terms how I felt about him, apologize for being an inarticulate idiot, emotionally stunted, and generally crazy bitch. I had to do it quick, before he left with Ice Princess and did something I'd have to wash him in bleach for later.

"You really fucked this one up, Swan," I murmured to myself, taking a deep breath.

There was no hope for it. I was going to have to march into that school and walk right up to him, where he'd be standing next to Princess, and just tell him flat out in front of everyone that I loved him, he loved me, and there was no way that amazing dick of his—or any other body part, for that matter—was going anywhere near her, ever again.

My entire being quailed, but I knew I had to do it. He deserved it, and so did I. It was way past time I told him, and it didn't matter that it would be in front of a couple hundred people I'd have to live with for the next month or so until we graduated.

So be it.

I stood, determined, but my attention was caught by the commotion coming from the school. A couple of figures had spilled out the door, and I'd recognize that suit clad form anywhere, as well as the bright, fake blonde next to him. My stomach lurched, thinking maybe he was leaving with her after all and I was too late, but then she whirled around and slapped him—slapped him hard. Slapped my boy.

I saw red, but his posture made me curb the homicidal urge to run down there and snatch every perfect strand of blonde hair from her head. He just stood there and took that first blow, but when she went to give him another, he grabbed her wrist in his hand. He held her arm, struggling to be gentle but keeping her away from him. I heard her voice rise up into a shriek, and then the low rumble of his, but I couldn't hear what they were saying due to the distance. She ranted and raved, her arms flailing as he put his hands back in his pockets. She finally wound down, burying her face in her hands, shoulders shaking, and wailing loud enough to wake the dead. I could hear the completely dramatic and fake howls from where I was surrounded by the dark. I would have rolled my eyes, but I couldn't take them off him.

Alice came out, her little body looking like an ant as she scurried around Frosty the Snowbitch, yelling at Edward before finally steering her Queen toward the parking lot. I watched as Alice put her in the Porsche, yelling and making a very rude gesture at Edward, who still stood in the circle of light by the door. The Porsche left the lot in a flash of taillights and squeal of rubber, and I smiled in satisfaction until I realized he was still just standing there, looking a little lost and forlorn. Edward Cullen should never look like that, let alone feel that way, so I whipped out my phone just as he turned to look in my direction.

I had intended to text him—_I'm sorry, I love you, I want everything you said, too_—but I just waved the lighted phone, letting him know I was still there, that I saw him. His hand came up to run through his hair as he turned, and my heart dropped when I thought he'd just ignore me and go back inside. He didn't, and a huge smile lit my face as he started toward the stadium. I gave a sigh of relief and gratitude before running down the steps, wanting to meet him, needing to make some sort of effort.

I turned the corner into the tunnel and almost ran into him. He caught me with a loud _oof,_ steadying me, and then set me down very carefully a few feet in front of him. His hands remained on my shoulders, and I smiled at him like a lunatic.

"I want everything you said," I blurted. "All of it. All that and more. I'm sorry I'm an idiot and can't speak like a normal human being when I'm all emotional, but that's me and you're just going to have to get used to it. I want you, Edward. I want to be with you and I love you and we've got this summer. We'll make things work, figure out college, the future, what we're doing with the rest of our lives, but right now? I just want to be with you."

He took my hand and smiled. It was a beautiful smile, one that lit his face. His eyes were soft and understanding. Happy. I took his hand pulled him to me so I could feel him from my head to my toes. The stars were bright, and he was warm, solid, and so very real.

"I broke it off with my fucking girlfriend," he whispered in my ear, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Yeah?" I breathed, squeezing my eyes shut and hugging him hard.

"Yeah." He rested his cheek on top of my head, and I'd never felt better in my life. "I love you, too."

He'd chosen me. He thought what we had was worth hanging on to, and it was—it really was. I sighed, filled with happiness, love, and contentment, all because of the beautiful boy in my arms who had shown me how to appreciate those things.

"Good deal."

**THE END**

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Thank you – this has been such a fun week because of you guys reading, recommending, and reviewing.**

**Epilogue, etc.—dunno. In my head, I know what happens with these two crazy kids in the future. If you guys want it, I might write it down if the voice comes to me.**

**Thanks to SunKing for her beta skills and encouragement—this would have languished in the depths of my hard drive if not for her.**

**I have an exclusive Iceward futuretake in the FGB compilation if you followed his adventures. Today is the last day to donate if you're so inclined.**

**Some recs if you're interested:**

**Always An Edward by LifeInTheSnow – her Branching Inward was a good read, too. She has pretty words.**

**Cold Case File by i-was-broken – it's shameful how few reviews this has. Shameful.**

**Sleep on the Floor by sexycereal – snarky, crazy college Bella, fun read so far.**


	10. Chapter 10 Epilogue

**CH 10 EPILOGUE**

"Oh, God," I muttered, tossing my head wildly back and forth, hands scrabbling across the hard, slick surface of the Biology lab table. "Feels so fucking good. Yes. Edward. Don't stop."

He grunted in assent and then contradicted the sound with a long, low, warning groan, skin slick with sweat as he leaned over me, heavy and hard and so unbelievably amazing between my thighs. In me. Finally.

"You better not come," I warned, straining up against him, pressing our hips together tighter, deeper, more. He groaned again, and I could tell he was really close. I sank my nails into his biceps, hoping the sting would bring him back from the edge for just a few more seconds until I could join him.

_Almost there._

He'd warned me he wouldn't last long, not after being apart for more than three months. I loved teasing him, but it had backfired on me in a big way. I was just as desperate—maybe more—loving the feel of him hard and penetrating inside me, so deep, so hot. It was the first time in months I'd had something between my legs that didn't vibrate, and I'd almost forgotten how fucking good he was. How he felt. How he made me feel.

"Coming, coming, coming," I chanted, and then I did, curling into him and biting his neck, desperate and shattering.

He shivered violently and broke, gritting his teeth at the feel of mine in his flesh but arching his neck to give me better access. I knew exactly how he felt, aching and wanting, unable to control the pleasure and intensity of being together again.

"God, I missed you," he whispered into my ear, breaths slowing, his weight heavy but so welcome on top of me.

He poked and prodded with knees and elbows until I flopped over a few inches, giving him enough room to crawl up next to me on the high, narrow counter. There wasn't enough room, so I had to roll over and lay half on top of him to keep from falling off onto the floor.

And that was _such_ a shame.

We lay in each other's arms, recovering, and I couldn't stop myself from touching him, running over his skin, feeling the firm resilience of muscle underneath, the heat and reality of him.

"I missed you, too," I admitted, kissing his shoulder. "I don't want to go another three months without seeing you. Or fucking you."

"Mm."

I looked up to see that his eyes were closed, but a smile had curved his mouth. Long fingers stroked my arm.

"You don't have to," he continued, cracking open one green eye to smile down at me. "That's why I gave you your present."

He'd given me my Christmas present early, almost as soon as he saw me—although not before he'd tried to get me naked. The boy did have his priorities straight. It was an airline gift card, so I could go see him whenever I wanted. Now that we had our first semester at college under our belts, and something of a routine and familiarity established in our academic careers, he'd promised he'd come to U-Dub more often, and with the gift card, I could go see him at Dartmouth. I hadn't been very happy about the extravagance until he had pointed out that he had bought it as much for himself as for me—after all, I'd be the one traveling all day across the country when I used it, and we'd both be getting something out of it in the end.

"Well." He stretched, and I watched the muscles coil and release under his pale skin with avid interest. He was so pretty, after all, and I hadn't been able to indulge since he'd left for New Hampshire in late August. "We should probably get dressed, at least. Don't want anyone walking in. You're a mess."

I laughed and swatted at him as he rolled off table with a leer and went in search of our clothes.

"Have to admit, that was one of my biggest fantasies," he said, shooting my bra at me like a rubber band and cracking up when I hurled his jeans at him so they hit square in his stupid, gorgeous face. "Fucking your brains out on our old Biology station. There were so many days that last semester when I sat here, imagining exactly that in explicit detail. God. What a turn-on."

He was telling the truth—I could tell by the way his dick twitched as he pulled his jeans over his hips. He was commando, and talk about a fucking turn-on… I shivered, and he smirked.

"There are some brains that leaked out on the table, but I don't know if they're yours or mine."

"I don't think that's brains," he joked.

"Ew."

He grinned, swaggering up to me bare-chested, hair a mess, mouth swollen from all the biting and licking, the top button of his jeans still undone. The brains he hadn't just fucked out of me did a slow ooze out of my open, panting mouth before I managed to pull it together.

"How do you feel about having a go on one of the desks in Berty's classroom?" I asked. "Maybe we can figure out which one was the Ice Bitch's and leave all kinds of noxious fluids on it."

"Nice," he grimaced. "It's a good idea except for the fact that it's not her desk anymore. We'd probably send some poor, innocent little frosh into therapy."

"True." I scowled, but then perked up at an idea. "Maybe we could just go screw on her front lawn again, because that was hysterical. Remember Mrs. Hale—'Oh no, my hydrangeas!'"

"'Where are your pants? Oh, my God! What are you _doing_?'" Edward continued in a high falsetto, and we burst out laughing.

"No, wait! The hood of Ice Queen's car this time. We never got around to that. Or how about—"

He slid my miniscule underwear up my legs, fingers tickling and sliding into places they shouldn't tickle and slide if he wanted to get out of there anytime soon. I squirmed and slapped at his hands.

"I'm sure we'll run into her at some point while we're home," he said, passing me my jeans and bending for my shirt and hoodie. "When we do, you have my full consent to drop to your knees wherever we are and give me head right in front of her."

"I say, terribly sporting of you, isn't it?" I drawled in an awful English accent, and he pulled the shirt over my head, tangling me in it so I couldn't see and giving my face a shove. "Hey!"

"You and that fucking mouth."

"You missed fucking my mouth."

"I did." He stepped in between my legs, reaching out to run his thumb over my lower lip, lingering in the corner and pressing lightly so I opened when he kissed me, all slow and gentle tongue filling and filling me until I couldn't breathe.

He tasted so good. He felt so right.

"Love you," I whispered, and I saw his eyes flare at the words.

"Never get tired of hearing you say it," he murmured. "Never."

He eased me back on the slick table, and we made out like we hadn't just had mind-blowing sex on the surface only minutes before.

A little while later, we walked out of the main building, his arm around my shoulders, mine around his waist. We couldn't stop touching even for the short amount of time it took for me to lock the door behind us.

"One good thing about having a dad who is the Chief of Police," I said as "Master key sets to all of the public buildings in Forks."

"Oh yeah?" He looked at me with interest. "All the public buildings? Where else does he have keys to?"

"I'm saving that for your Christmas surprise," I told him, and he laughed.

Our arms went back around each other as we turned toward the quiet, empty stadium. It was Christmas break, and there was no one around the high school campus, either in or out of doors.

"Weird being back here, isn't it?" he murmured as we walked across the parking lot.

"Yeah." I reached up with my free hand to link my fingers with the hand he had draped over me, pulling his thumb into my mouth and giving it a suggestive suck. "I'll never forget that first time I met you. God, the look on your face."

"'Do you want a blowjob or not?'" he mimicked with a fond grin. "Best introduction ever. Can't wait to tell our grandkids. It will be a proud moment."

"Ah, good times. I'm such a role model."

"The epitome of good-nature and patience," he agreed with only a twitch of his mouth, glancing around at the rough asphalt. "I love this parking lot."

I grinned wickedly at him. We'd made good use of that lot since that first meeting, in his car and my truck, everywhere—constantly, all the time. The night of our senior Spring Formal had freed a lot more than him from his fucking girlfriend. It had sent us into a tailspin of sexual experimentation and abandonment. It hadn't mattered where, how, or who might be around. We'd gotten caught more times than I liked to remember, but we hadn't cared, and we certainly hadn't let it stop us. The Police Chief's daughter and the Chief of Staff's son… No one had known what to do with either of us. We'd been caught and dragged before our respective parents, each other's parents, been sternly talked to, grounded, yelled, and flailed at. We'd just looked contrite, nodded and agreed, and then got naked with each other again as soon as possible.

The last time Charlie had tried to reason with me about it, he'd finally just yelled in frustration, "What the hell has gotten into you?"

We'd both stared at each other in horror, knowing exactly what—or who—had been getting into me, and we'd both flushed, stuttered, and never spoke of it again. Edward and I would get busted, Charlie would come pick me up—more often than not in the back of the cruiser, maybe hoping that would help knock some sense into me—and drop me off at home. I'd go out the back door and meet Edward. And get naked some more.

Our antics took the heat off us at school—not that either of us were concerned. Frosty had tried to ostracize us, but it was hard to shun people who just didn't give a shit about what anyone else thought or did. Edward and I had spent the last few weeks of high school in our own little world. If anyone was surprised that we were seeing each other, or that he'd broken up with Homecoming Bitch to go out with me, we hadn't noticed. Pretty soon, everyone had been too amused and turned on by our escapades to even remember he'd ever gone out with her at all.

He held my hand as he led me up the steps of the stadium, and I stumbled, remembering that his ass was naked under the layer of denim. I righted myself and bit my lip, and he turned his head to glance at me, raising an amused, arrogant brow. I let it pass without comment. His ass was fine, and it deserved every bit of his conceit. He climbed forever until he finally found a spot that met with his approval and pulled me down to sit next to him.

"So, how are things at the venerable University of Washington? Are you playing well with others? Joining in all the little reindeer games?"

"Seriously? You dragged me all the way up here to talk about school and to see if I'm making nice with the other girls and boys?"

"Better not be making nice with any boys. I was just wondering how you're getting along with your roommates, people in your classes." He tried to hide a smile. "You know how easily you get annoyed."

I couldn't argue, because it was true.

"Don't worry about me," I told him. "It's your pretty little ass—and face—I spend sleepless night worrying about. All those brainy girls at Dartmouth. They're too smart to let you slip through their greedy little fingers without taking their shot at you."

"Me?" he glanced down in amused indignation. "I'm not the one who went around fucking people whose girlfriends pissed them off."

"I didn't go around fucking people," I protested. "Just you."

"Hm." He looked out over the field. "I did have a few bad moments that last year of high school, wondering if Alice would push you over the edge and if I'd have to kill Jasper."

"Jasper?" I wrinkled my nose.

"I thought maybe if Alice pissed you off like Rosalie did, you'd try to fuck him stupid." Edward shook his head. "I would have had to kill him."

"Oooh," I breathed, hugging his arm and pressing it against my breasts as I turned toward him. "Jealous. That's hot."

He was hot all the time, but Jealous Edward was just yummy. I remembered when he'd driven me to the U-Dub campus the week before school started, before he'd left for Dartmouth, and how he'd hovered over me possessively, snarling and smirking at any guy who even happened to glance in my direction. _Mm. Yes._ I just wish I could have done the same to the girls at Dartmouth, but that would probably have ended in a bloodbath. I really didn't deal well with people messing with my boy.

He chuckled, bending his head to kiss me.

"You have no idea. I was so jealous—of everyone. Everything. I wanted you so badly. I still do. It was so hard to be patient and wait, to let you come to your senses."

"Come to my senses." I rolled my eyes, and he nudged my cheek and jaw with his nose, placing warm, suggestive kisses along the sensitive spots.

"Yeah. You thought I was good enough to fuck, but not good enough to date. Rose thought I was good enough to date, but not to fuck. It messed with my head for a while, until I realized how much I wanted to both fuck and date someone, and it was you. I started to think maybe you felt the same, but it would just take you longer to get it. So, I waited and tried to be patient. That wasn't easy."

"You're the only one I've ever wanted this way," I told him, suddenly serious. "In every way, all the time. You know that."

"I do. You do know I spent most of my senior year thinking of ways to push Rosalie, to piss you off. It's a wonder I got the grades to graduate." He looked so proud and so smug that I hated to burst his little bubble.

"I know," I told him.

"What? You do?"

"Of course. I would have been disappointed if you hadn't. I egged her on, too. I would have taken any excuse to jump you."

"You're such a weirdo."

"I know." I swung around to straddle his lap. "But I'm your weirdo."

"Better believe it."

He smiled against my lips as I kissed him.

"It's worth it, you know," he said, holding me as I sat on his lap, draped over him, not ever wanting to let him go. "You are. It sucks being apart. But it's worth it, just to be with you like this."

"We'll make it work," I murmured, my heart pounding with happiness that he felt that way. "It's a good thing we're both too stubborn and determined for our own good."

He let out a deep breath, and I realized he'd been worried. Somehow, he was still a little unsure about how I felt, and that was not acceptable. I sat up to take his face between my palms. "I love you, Edward. It does suck, not being able to see you, go out with you, go to parties, to eat, to have sex with you in person, but thank God for cellphones and webcams."

He snorted in amusement and tightened his hold on me.

"We'll figure it out. I don't want to see anyone else. I'm not even tempted. Not even a little."

"Me, either," he assured me with a relieved smile.

"Then… We'll manage, right?"

"We'll manage. Just promise me you'll use that airline gift card. It's renewable, you know, so you can use it as much as you want. And I'll come back to Washington as often as I can."

"It won't be easy, but we'll make it work."

"Nothing about you is easy, Miss Swan, but I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Good deal. Besides, I know it's really all about my mad blowjob skills."

He tilted his head, considering. "There is that…"

I slid off his lap, easing down on my knees between his. He leaned back on the cold metal bench as I reached for the buttons on his jeans.

"I guess I better stay in practice, then. It's been three long months, after all." I took him in my hand, easy to do because _he didn't have any underwear on_, and leaned forward to envelop him in my warm, wet mouth.

He groaned, letting his head fall back and then lifting it to watch.

"Good deal?" I asked, grinning wickedly at him, his dick in my fist, my mouth and tongue hovering over him.

His breath hitched, eyes languorous as his lids fluttered in delight and he bit his lower lip. He was gorgeous, inside and out, and all mine. Worth every miserable second we were apart, and every glorious one we were together.

_All mine._

"Oh. Oh, yeah. Good deal."

And he was. The best I ever made.

* * *

><p><strong>Happy Holidays!<strong>

**I wanted to post this in appreciation for all your support. Thank you so much for reading.**


End file.
